


Kinky

by blackchaps



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John makes a suggestion. Rodney isn‘t enthusiastic about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinky

*********

John

*********

“What?”

“Is that just a reflex question? I‘m very sure you heard me.” John makes sure not to grin as he slides his hand down Rodney‘s arm and waits for it all to process. Occasionally, it takes an extra second or two because his super-smart scientist thinks of things that he shouldn‘t.

“But!” Rodney stops after that one word. He holds up his hand and shakes his finger. “Are you kinky, and I didn‘t know it?”

That makes John grin. “Yes.”

“I live in fear of your quick and easy answers.” Rodney slumps down on the narrow bed and puts his head in his hands. “Can I ask why?”

“It‘d make me very happy.” John tugs on Rodney‘s very short hair. Rodney swats at John‘s hand but says nothing. John releases him and sighes. “Think about it. No rush.”

Rodney leaps to his feet and is out the door so fast that a power bar is forcefully ejected from a pocket to hit the floor. If further evidence is required that Rodney is totally freaking out, he doesn‘t even stop to get it, so it‘s bad. John sweeps it up and stuffs it away in a spare pocket. Rodney might need it later.

Stepping out in the hallway, John yells after him, “No rush!” There isn‘t an answer, unless he counts the fact that Rodney is running now. Well, he‘d be back. He always came back.

**********

“Were you serious?”

John never aims. He fires as if his life depends on it, which it does. “Run! Don‘t talk!”

Rodney runs, and John is a half-step behind him. They slide behind a big rock together. “But seriously, were you serious?”

“Stop multi-tasking and haul your ass back through the damn gate!” John yanks him up, and they run together, coming in hotter than hell. Teyla and Ronon are close enough to push them down as they broach the event horizon. The gate dissolves behind them, and he catches Elizabeth‘s worried eyes, staring down at them sprawled on the floor.

He raises his hand. “We‘re okay!”

“Speak for yourself, Colonel.” Rodney limps to the stairs and sits down with a groan. Teyla and Ronon glance at John as if to say that he‘s on his own and leave the gateroom together. John almost bolts after them, but Elizabeth will want her report, and Rodney has grown dependent on his after-catastrophe bitch session.

Seeking to avoid half of it, John puts his hand firmly on Rodney‘s shoulder. “Yes. I‘m very serious. Go see Carson and clean up. I‘ll brief Elizabeth.”

“But-”

“Go.” John uses his almost-a-command voice and goes up the stairs. Rodney grumbles about colonels with inflated egos, but he‘s moving and that‘s a victory of sorts. John hopes he doesn‘t pay for it later.

**********

“I don‘t get the attraction to the process.”

John drops his fork into his lap. He retrieves it before hissing, “I‘m not discussing it here.”

Rodney looks surprised, glancing around the mostly full cafeteria. “What?”

“I know your social skills are a bit lacking, having actually been exiled to Siberia, but there are other people close by!” John glares, wishing he could turn Rodney‘s mouth on and off with a thought like he did the shower.

“For that, I‘m eating your jello.” Rodney snatches it, and John refuses to fork him for it. It isn‘t the first time his jello has been ripped off, and it won‘t be the last. Chances are good that Mr. Mensa had orchestrated the little event as an excuse. John wraps his other arm a little more protectively around his tray and starts eating again. He‘s always hungry after a mission that involves lots of running, shouting, and yelling at Rodney to shut up. Rodney never shuts up. He lifts his chin and has one more thing to say. Or two, depending on how stupid he thinks everyone else is being. John narrows his eyes when he sees a move for his biscuit.

“Fine. I didn‘t really want it.”

John snorts, knowing a lie when he hears one. He eats all of his biscuit before saying, “Well, I do. I want it. Soon.” Fast, he picks up his tray and leaves, praying that Rodney won‘t shout after him.

*********

“So, what page are you on?” Rodney opens the door and opens with that question.

John doesn‘t take his eyes off the stick he‘s twirling. “Finished it yesterday,” he lies easily. It was a big book. He‘d get to it later, after everyone stops trying to kill them.

“And now you‘re starting your new hobby of baton twirling?”

One step and a quick snap, and he has the satisfaction of watching Rodney‘s mouth open but no sound comes out.

“Ouch!”

The silence only lasts one second, but it‘s a victory of sorts.

“I‘m going to have a bruise!” Rodney rubs his thigh vigorously.

“Yeah, you should see the one Teyla put on my ass.” John tries a knuckle roll and watches as the stick drops to the floor. He glares down at it in disgust. “Maybe I should give up.”

Rodney blows a raspberry, goes to the bed, and sits down to pull off his shoes. “Haven‘t you done that before?” He waves his hand and snaps his fingers. “That‘s right. Lasted two days. Then you went slinking back for more punishment. Ah, maybe I do get it now.”

John has the feeling that Rodney has written a thesis on it. “You‘re over-thinking it. That has nothing to do with what I want from you.”

“You‘re certain there‘s no transference going on?” Rodney sounds suspicious. It isn‘t unusual or unexpected. John picks up the stick, puts it with its buddy, and stows them away. He turns back to see that Rodney looks perfectly comfortable, stretched out on John‘s bed. Rodney likes it when John crawls on top.

“No. That‘s not it.” John hopes he sounds exasperated. He perches on the edge of the low-lying shelf and toes his shoes off, immediately putting them away. “But forget it. We can‘t do it here. I was just having a big bout of wishful thinking.”

Staring over at him, Rodney‘s eyes glitter with something that looks like anger. “You wish . . .”

The ground opens up in front of him and he sees the depth of his mistake. He puts his hands on the end of the bed and starts to crawl up it. He stops along the way to nuzzle parts that he hopes will be naked later.

“I wish I had better words.”

Rodney wraps his arms around him and kisses him. “I usually have more than enough for both of us.”

That‘s very true.

*********

“I‘ll do it,” Rodney says very loudly. His mouth looks as if he‘s bitten into a lemon. John stares, waiting for him to collapse and require an epipen, but he doesn‘t. There has to be something to say to make this all more clear. Rodney glares. “I want you to thank me.”

That makes it easy enough. Direction is always good. “Thank you, Rodney.”

“You‘re welcome.” Rodney shifts his glare to Zelenka. “Are you working?”

Zelenka ducks his head behind his laptop. John hides his smile and edges closer. He hates this type of discussion. The ones where he has no clue, and they have them at least once a week. “Um, yeah, Rodney?”

Rodney seems to cower a little. “What?” he chokes out.

“What are you talking about?” John isn‘t sure. He wants to be sure. “The jumper? The mission? My laundry?”

Sparks seem to fly from Rodney‘s blue eyes. That is bad. “The thing!” He gestures wildly, and John rescues the coffee. “The only thing you‘ve ever asked me to do!”

“Oh.” John hopes they‘re on the same page now. “Well, cool.” He smiles, but it‘s a small one. If they are talking about what he thinks they‘re talking about, they shouldn‘t be talking about it in front of nosy scientists. He puts the coffee in Rodney‘s hand to steady him. “But first, the jumper. It‘s not acting right.”

“Define right.” Rodney is flushed, but he drinks the coffee.

“Not right.” John blinks and tilts his head. He purses his lips, searching for words to describe what he can feel in the engines.

“I‘d be happy to check with you,” Zelenka says.

Rodney nods almost frantically. “Please. Before I start banging my head into the keyboard again.”

John is tempted to stay to watch the show, but his jumper needs him. “Let‘s go. Rodney could use a minute.”

“More like a year,” Zelenka mutters. John laughs silently, not wanting to make Rodney change his mind. A yes is a yes, and he‘ll take it.

********

“I‘ve changed my mind.”

John waits, knowing that isn‘t the end of it.

“Eight dozen times.” The pitch of Rodney‘s voice would‘ve made a dog cringe. John catches those flailing hands and pulls him close. Rodney sinks into the embrace, but he‘s muttering. John chooses not to listen. The touch is comforting, like a favorite blanket or a La-Z-Boy. They don‘t hug very often. Rodney looks cuddly. He isn‘t. “John, that‘s all I can stand.”

“Okay.” John turns him loose, takes a small step back, and makes sure not to look right at him. “The puddle jumper is fixed.”

Rodney huffs out some air. “I heard. You‘re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“What fun would that be?” John chuckles, ducking the hand that slaps at him. “Luckily for you, I have a plan.”

“The kind where I walk for hours or the kind where I get shot in the ass?” Rodney crosses his arms over his chest, probably to protect himself.

John refuses to be insulted, but he will park the jumper farther away from the mysterious energy source next time. “We‘ll do it tomorrow.” He ignores the squawk of outrage.

********

“I am so not doing this.”

“Okay.” John shrugs. He hooks his thumb at his back. “Dry that, will ya?”

Rodney dries him off quickly and efficiently. “I‘ll do it on one condition.”

John does nothing but turn and raise his eyebrows.

“Tell me why.” Rodney is close to pouting. John lifts his hand and slowly drags his thumb the length of that crooked mouth. He has a ton of reasons, but only one matters. Shifting closer, he can feel Rodney‘s heat.

“Because I want.”

“Oh,” Rodney whispers. “Just once?”

That‘s an interesting question, and John isn‘t going to snap out an easy lie. “Maybe.” He‘s willing to go that far. It depends on what happens today.

“Oh, shit.” Rodney hides his face in the towel. John tugs it down and looks right in those blue eyes, asking the question without words. The answering groan is enough, and he leads Rodney to the wall. Rodney gives out a high-pitched whine. “Today?” he chokes.

John doesn‘t answer that stupid question. “Kneel down. Face the wall.”

Rodney is practically hyperventilating, but he kneels. John has to work to keep a very big smile off his face. He puts his hand to the wall and gives the command, plus the password. Rodney‘s mouth falls open – it‘s a good look on him.

“You wrote on the wall?” he screeches.

“You‘re always telling me the laptops aren‘t secure. This is.” John squats and kisses the back of Rodney‘s neck. “Read the rules. Memorize them, and then we‘ll begin the day.”

“I scanned them already. One and three are completely unreasonable. Four is ridiculous, and five will get you a fat lip,” Rodney growls.

John laps at a drop of water that‘s clinging to Rodney‘s shoulder. “So two is good?”

“I can‘t believe you did this! I didn‘t even know the walls would do this!” Rodney takes a breath that makes him shudder. “Why me? I thought you hated this sort of thing!”

Pushing him would be a mistake, so John skims his hand down the side of Rodney‘s neck and kisses him again. Rodney‘s brain is thinking furiously. He‘d either get up and leave or he‘d accept what John wanted. There would be no half-measures. John gets to his feet, standing over him and waiting for the decision. Very slowly, Rodney lowers his head. It‘s a gift, and John will be very careful to honor it.

*********

Rodney

*********

“Think you got them?”

The urge to snap, snarl, and maybe whine is incredible. Rodney rubs his face and forces it all away. He‘s a very intelligent man. This is nothing. “Yes, John.” Rule number two is going to be the only easy one. The rest might kill him, and if it weren‘t for the simple fact that John has never asked for anything – not one thing – in bed before, this wouldn‘t be happening. Rodney nearly groans. He should‘ve known there would be a catch somewhere when they started this _thing_.

“Elizabeth?” John taps his radio.

“Here, John.”

“Rodney and I are going to be working together on several projects today. He won‘t be going to the lab. Could you please tell Zelenka?”

Rodney forces his lips together so he doesn‘t curse. There‘s a small moment where Elizabeth might have been smiling.

“He lost a bet, didn‘t he?”

“Yes, and I‘m going to gloat about it all day.” John did sound happy. If it were true, that would make this worth it. Rodney doesn‘t sigh dramatically and roll his eyes. That‘s rule number six. He‘s going to hate the rules – he just knows it.

“I‘ll inform Zelenka.”

“Thanks.” John clicks off. “Okay, that was easy. You‘re mine for the day.” He laughs very softly, and Rodney thinks it is an evil sound. There will be payback for this. There had to be. He can‘t think of any right now, but that‘s because he‘s busy panicking. John touches him on the shoulder. “Get dressed.”

“Yes, John.” Rodney knew that would get old very fast. He scrambles up as John makes the words on the wall vanish. It‘s a very clever trick. Something to remember. Grabbing for his boxers, he nearly protests when they‘re pulled away.

“Shirt, pants, socks, and shoes. Nothing else.” John‘s already getting bossy. The day would be long and John would love every minute of it. Rodney reviews the rules, flips him off, and goes commando. Stupid rules. He‘s very careful with the zipper.

John laughs very loudly. “Too smart for your own good. Never piss off the man who owns your ass, Rodney.”

“Yes, John,” Rodney drawls. He slides on his shirt and smoothes his hair down. John is doing nothing but watching, naked, and it‘s disturbing, to say the least. When Rodney finishes, John motions him over and points at the floor. Rodney doesn‘t think a man with his back trouble should have to kneel all the time, but that complaint will have to wait until he can yell about it tomorrow, and he will. John‘s dick is right there, and it‘s hard, very hard, and it‘s distracting. It‘s difficult to be angry with that staring him in the face.

“Give me your left hand.”

Rodney‘s suspicious, but he does it. He extends his tongue also, but John edges away, damn him. It snaps on his arm, and he stares in amazement. “You have two?”

“That‘s three unauthorized words. Keep a running tally with that big brain of yours.” John adjusts the black wristband on Rodney‘s arm. “This will remind you. You‘re all mine today.”

Rodney‘s big brain finally starts to work again. “You‘re serious about number five?” he asks breathlessly; his ass cringing.

“That‘s eight.” John sounds thrilled. “I‘m praying you make it to thirty.”

Pressing his lips firmly together, Rodney lowers his head and begins to plot his revenge. It might take him all day, but he‘ll think of something really awful. The pressure of the wristband is unfamiliar, and he stares down at it, unsure of what it really means.

“Okay, you can think of ways to hurt me later. Get my clothes and dress me. You know what I like. Move.”

Surprise slows him down, and his knees creak, and thoughts of mayhem slide away as another layer of panic coats the first one. He fumbles, bumbles, and bites his lip so he won‘t curse, but he gets through it with only minimal screw-ups until he has to kneel and lace up John‘s boots. The very act makes him hesitate. He doesn‘t want to do that. It‘ll be degrading.

John puts a gentle hand on Rodney‘s shoulder and kisses him. “Coffee,” he breathes. Rodney thumps down and laces them up fast. Incentive is always appreciated. John stands, adjusts his shirt, and puts on his TAC vest. He always looks handsome. Rodney can see the bulge, and he‘ll admit to some mystification as to why John likes this, this, display of obedience that is far from heartfelt. Finding out why would be impossible. Knowing there was kink in John‘s soul makes Rodney quiver. He hadn‘t exactly signed on with kink in mind.

“Ready?”

“Yes, John.” Rodney needs coffee. Now. Lots of it.

John helps him up and kisses him hard. “Since you seem completely befuddled by all this, I want to emphasize rule ten again. If there‘s an emergency or you‘re in any distress today, all the rules are null and void instantly. Do this for me because you want to. Or let‘s not.”

Guilt. Lovely. Rodney twists the wristband and nods. He‘ll remember the rules, and if he can‘t take it, they‘ll stop. He follows John out the door, hard on his heels. Rules are one thing. Coffee‘s another.

*********

“Rodney, two cups is enough.” John sounds slightly amused. “The caffeine quotient in this stuff is higher than real coffee.”

Rodney opens his mouth to complain bitterly, but his ass, which hadn‘t been sentient until this morning, protests vigorously against any rash action. He can‘t force out any words that aren‘t curses, so he simply nods. John taps him on the wrist in a move that‘s nothing but bragging, but he lets it slide. Food now. Revenge later.

The mood in the cafeteria is just this side of snickering, and he adds Elizabeth to his list of people that are going to get it. He has a feeling the list will be a long one by the end of the day. Luckily, no one is sitting at their table or he‘s sure John would‘ve made him do monkey tricks.

“What was the bet?” Zelenka asks excitedly, almost appearing from nowhere. There was nothing he loved more than gossip, well, maybe vodka. Rodney kicks John‘s ankle. There are no rules about that, but he nearly cringes at the look John gives him.

“Rodney underestimated my intelligence. Again.” John smirks. He would. “If there‘s a real problem today, call me. I‘ll send him there.”

“I‘m certain we will be fine.” Zelenka has to see the death rays that Rodney is shooting out of his eyes. Oblivious to his doom, he pushes back his glasses and grins. “The silence is lovely.”

“Isn‘t it, though?” John is going to pay for that. Rodney starts a second list of grievances that will interface with the first list of offenders. He also steals John‘s unguarded biscuit and eats it fast. Before the last crumb has hit the table, John‘s on his feet. “Let‘s start our day.”

Rodney nearly whimpers at the remains of his breakfast. At lunch, he vows to eat much faster. Obviously, John can‘t be trusted with a simple thing like adequate nutrition. Zelenka suddenly looks frightened, bolting out of reach, and John makes a gesture that‘s easy to understand. Rodney clears the table, dumps the trays, and rushes after him.

John doesn‘t even turn to look at him as he finds his place behind him and a little to the right. Not talking is becoming increasingly difficult. He hasn‘t had near enough caffeine or food, and Zelenka will tell everyone and their cat about this, and he opens his mouth to start a vicious complaint when John turns fast. Rodney almost bumps into him.

“If you would ask, I would give it to you,” John growls. His brown eyes are wide and fierce and that is scarier than anything. “Would you like to kneel at lunch and slowly eat from my hand?”

The very idea is horrifying, and the fact that he‘d do it, for John, makes it ten times worse. He shakes his head frantically, licking his suddenly dry lips.

“I‘ll punish you when we get where we‘re going.” John turns and starts walking again. Rodney nearly runs the other way. He notices that John doesn‘t even look over his shoulder. John has perfect confidence that Rodney will obey. Why? What has he done to give him that impression?

“Yes, John,” Rodney says, aching to say something more, something horrible, something, even, mean. He follows but not enthusiastically. This is all confusing as hell. John – a born rebel – wants to boss Rodney around – in a sexual way? And he thinks Rodney will do it? Rodney shakes his head to clear it, nearly jostles him, and refuses to look at him as they get in the transporter. Perhaps this is all a bad dream brought on by citrus, and he‘ll wake up in a moment with drool on his chin.

They‘re instantly there, and Rodney trails after him, thinking furiously. He can only find two answers: John is nuts to get off on something he claims to hate, and he‘s crazy to believe that Rodney will keep his word.

Suddenly, John stops, and Rodney realizes they‘re in the armory. John shuts the door and points at the floor. Rodney tries to go to his knees gracefully, but he fails, and his knee pops. John rolls his eyes. It‘s okay for him to do it.

“Worst slave ever, and I‘ve had a few!” John is using his scary eyes again. “Now try harder!”

“Yes, yes, John,” Rodney says quickly. He‘ll try. He doesn‘t know why, but he will. The realization that John has done this to other men, and women, is a painful one. Somehow, he‘d hoped he was special. At least he has the designation of worst ever. It‘s something. “John?”

John leans over so they‘re eye-to-eye. “What?”

“Yes.” Rodney tries to put his desire to do better in that one word. “John.”

“Oh, Rodney.” John captures Rodney‘s head and tucks it tight into his skinny belly. It‘s a lot like a hug, and it goes on long enough that Rodney nearly squirms to get away. John doesn‘t turn him loose. “Be still. Breathe. I have you.”

Rodney lets out a whimpery noise. That‘s the problem, but he can‘t shove him away. He doesn‘t like being held. Never did. It only makes him crazy with the need to run.

“Stop quivering. I‘m not letting go.”

Trying to force himself to be still, he takes a deep breath and hates the short whine that comes out at the end of it.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Two jerks and he does it, and he feels more helpless than ever, and he hates it. Shutting his eyes, he prays John will get bored and wander away. Time slows to a crawl, and slowly, very slowly, the shakes leave him. At the very instant, he leans into it, John pulls away.

“I know it was a terrible punishment, but you endured it well.” John helps him up. “Now, I need your help with these P-90′s.”

Shock is uppermost in his mind. He was punished with a hug? How incredibly pathetic is that? He nearly demands a strapping, but reason takes over his brain before he does something very stupid. “Yes, John,” he manages to say. He rubs his knees, stretches his back, and forces himself to look over the pile of weapons. Instead of talking and complaining and cursing jarheads with no respect for weaponry, he picks one up and field-strips it.

“The closest thing we have to an ordinance expert is myself, and these guns consistently jam. It‘s driving me nuts. Every time I think they‘re fixed, they break again, and there is nothing worse than a jammed P-90 when a Wraith wants to eat you. The thing is: they‘re very sturdy. This shouldn‘t be happening. Think Stargate Command gave us the rejects?”

Rodney looks up from the gun. For John, that‘s almost babbling. Maybe the hug affected him also. “Yes.”

“Help?” John doesn‘t look hopeful, just frustrated.

“Yes.” Rodney honestly thought he‘d spend the day sucking John‘s cock and licking boots, not actually helping John deal with problems. It‘s reassuring on some levels and frustrating on others. He hooks a stool with his foot, sits down, and thinks the lights brighter. John smiles and sits next to him. Their shoulders bump as they tear down the guns, and Rodney runs his hands over each part, feeling for minute defects because nothing is obvious. Frustrated, he grabs one that hasn‘t jammed and strips it down to compare.

“Good idea. I hadn‘t thought of that.”

Pointing at his big brain, Rodney laughs softly. He tugs John‘s vest when he finds the problem, and they discover the same flaw on each gun. Squinting, he holds it and isn‘t exactly sure how to fix a manufactering issue. The Marines probably threw out a certain percentage of guns and thought nothing of it. Atlantis doesn‘t have that luxury.

“We‘re screwed,” John says and sighs. “Well, at least I can check them all.”

Putting his hand on John‘s arm, he shakes his head. John raises his eyebrows. Rodney goes over all the parts again. Keeping his mouth shut seems to have the effect of making his brain twirl even faster. The solution pops up, and he snaps his fingers several times.

“Tools?”

Rodney grins at him. “Yes, John.”

John smiles back and begins to dig around. He comes back with tools, and Rodney ignores him until the problem‘s fixed. Or at least he hopes it‘s fixed. John takes the gun and goes over it very carefully. He puts it down and kisses him.

“I think it‘ll work. Let‘s go test it.”

Protesting won‘t do any good, so he goes with, and John doesn‘t waste too much ammunition. They take it back and strip it again. John whistles. “It held. Looks good.”

With a small flair, Rodney puts the gun back together, sets it aside, and starts on the next one. John sits down next to him to help. At some point, a power bar is consumed, and he feels better, and he‘s almost happy when the job is done.

“I love a man that can fix a gun.” John laughs, racks the last gun, and yanks him close. “You deserve a treat.”

That‘s the truth. His mouth is tired from not talking. He opens it to ask for a few more words, and John is kissing him. Sucking, licking, teasing, and thrusting: and then starting all over again. His complaints fly out the window, and he groans loudly when John wraps a hand around Rodney‘s neck and the other squeezes his ass.

“Okay, next job. At this rate, we‘ll be done while the sun is up.” John abruptly pulls away, leaving him with a terrific hard-on and an open mouth. He swallows John‘s spit and rubs his face, hoping he isn‘t moaning. John doesn‘t look back, and Rodney has to rush after him, wanting to fall to his knees and ask for more. Chances are good that his ‘owner‘ knows it too.

Rubbing the wristband, he decides he doesn‘t know John at all, and that is completely John‘s fault. This time, he tries to pay attention to where they were going, but John grabs him around the wrist, derailing all coherent thought.

“Having fun?” John slaps him on the ass. Rodney jumps and lets out a small yelp. His face is bright red as they enter stargate control. Chuck‘s eyes are big, and Rodney wants to kill John. Kill him. John looks around and says, “Chuck, beat it. We need your spot.”

Chuck doesn‘t hesitate, practically runs, and Rodney is tempted to boot him along. John pushes him down in the chair. “We have a problem.”

Rodney‘s erection fades instantly. “Why wasn‘t I informed?” he demands very loudly. John‘s answering smile is a thing of evil, and Rodney ups the count while waiting impatiently. John cocks his hip against the console, which is completely against the rules. It‘s delicate machinery!

“This is the thing. Team Lorne came in hot yesterday.” John raises his finger. “Not a strange occurrence, I know, but it got me to thinking. Why don‘t we set up a secondary force field around the stargate? One that we can initialize to contain hostiles or even possibly a Wraith dart. You know my worst nightmare is a dart finding us through the wormhole.”

John seems to take a breath. “Remember the small shield that Wraith set up on the planet of twinkle bugs? Something like that.”

Rodney bursts out laughing. He doesn‘t mean to, but it happens, and he smothers it fast before John adds a new rule. Thinking furiously, he decides that it‘s a good idea, but setting it up will take a little work and some ingenuity. He‘s going to need coffee. John clears his throat, and Rodney looks at him.

“Dumb idea, huh?” John looks half-embarrassed, and Rodney has to rub his face. He‘d been laughing at the twinkle bugs, not the idea. He hates feeling guilty. Quickly, before John does something stupid like spank him in front of everyone, he taps John‘s huge watch and makes a motion like he‘s drinking.

“You need coffee already?”

Putting his hands together, he begs without a word, not caring who sees him.

“But you‘re going to do it?” John‘s grinning now.

Rodney nods firmly. He would do it. He‘s amazed he hasn‘t thought of it before and wants to smack John on the back of the head for not mentioning it sooner. Something else to yell about tomorrow. He doesn‘t watch John leave. No, it‘s time to get busy, and he doesn‘t look up until after his second cup of coffee and Elizabeth is standing over him. He pulls his head out from under the console, raising his eyebrows.

“You‘re sure you can do it, Rodney?”

He nods and waits, shooting a glare at John, who‘s lounging close by. She looks from him to John.

“This is killing you, isn‘t it?”

Clapping his hand over his mouth so he doesn‘t curse them all, he goes back to work. He and John share a lunch tray at some point, and then another power bar, and Chuck manages not to blow anything up, and suddenly he‘s finished. John shuts the last panel and pats him on the leg.

“Good work. You got your genius on today!”

Of course he does, but John rarely admits it, and he knows he‘s grinning like an idiot. “Thanks,” he whispers, not caring about the consequences.

“Time to establish some security protocols.” John pops up to his feet and pulls him. “You go find some food then meet me on the East Pier in the gym.”

Rodney groans, but he doesn‘t argue. He‘s hungry, and John _is_ the ranking military officer, so he can handle protocols.

“And remember the rules. I have spies everywhere.”

There was no doubt that anyone and everyone would love to rat him out. He gives John a sarcastic salute and dashes for the cafeteria. Halfway through a big meal, he realizes he has to go to the gym next. If Ronon is involved, there will be pain and sweating and he hates throwing up. He stops eating, swallows hard, and groans.

A group of his people come in the door, and he wants to slide under the table. He knows them – they‘ll rub it in, try to get him to talk, and then tell John everything. The next time John wants to play slave games, Rodney is going to throw Zelenka at him and run.

********

John

********

Leaving Rodney alone for even a minute is a risk, but John has to make sure everyone knows the rules before going to the gym and indulging himself. At the end of this day, Rodney will be furious, which means no more sex for at least a week, so John isn‘t quitting until every last drop of come is gone from his balls.

“John?”

“Oh, sorry.” John rubs his wristband and concentrates. “Rodney didn‘t say how much power it took, so for now, let‘s err on the side of caution and only use it under the circumstances we‘ve outlined.”

“Rodney didn‘t _say_ anything.” Elizabeth smirks, and John has a hard time not returning it.

He shrugs and puts his feet squarely on the floor. “He will tomorrow. I recommend ear plugs be issued to all essential personnel.”

“I recommend you find a dark place to hide.” Elizabeth laughs. “We‘re done. Thank Rodney when you see him again.”

“Will do.” John doesn‘t hurry, but he doesn‘t look back either. He nearly tromples Teyla in the hallway right outside the control room, and he apologizes fast. “Sorry. Gotta go.”

Teyla moves quickly to stand in front of him again. “I am curious, Colonel. Is it your intention to teach Dr. McKay a lesson in patience, or humility?”

John stops completely. Trust Teyla to see through to the root of it. “Patience.”

“Be certain he does not learn the wrong lesson.”

“Is he in the cafeteria?”

“I believe so.” Teyla is gone like smoke, and now John runs. He screeches to a halt right at the doorway, and then he slides in the cafeteria very quietly.

Scientists. They‘re like vultures without the table manners. This has to be handled now. John slaps Rodney on the back, nudging Zelenka aside to do it.

“Hey, buddy. Good job on the shield. Elizabeth is bragging about her brainy scientist right now.” John slices the air with his glare, meeting a lot of startled eyes. “Why didn‘t any of you think of it?”

Zelenka‘s mouth hangs open. “Think of what?”

“I believe that was Elizabeth‘s point.” John pulls Rodney up by his shirt. “Let‘s go. I have another small project on my list that requires a genius and none of you qualify.

“I thought you were in charge today, Radek? Everyone goes on coffee break at the same time? No wonder Rodney is always worried the city is going to explode, and I thought he was joking!”

All of them look suitably embarrassed, and John gets Rodney out of there, but he waits until they‘re in the transporter before pointing at the floor. Rodney practically flops down. He looks miserable. John hugs him close. For some reason, it‘s easier at this height. After a few minutes, Rodney‘s hands clutch him and pull them that much closer. John allows it for a count of thirty.

“Kiss me.”

Rodney scrambles up and the kisses are wet. He makes a soft sound that might have been a word, but John ignores it and touches the East Pier. It‘s instantaneous, and he laces his hand through Rodney‘s and starts for the gym. Holding hands is very non-military, but it‘s safe on this side of the city. Rodney seems confused more than anything.

John opens the gym door and drags him inside. “Sit in the middle.” He smiles as Rodney peers into corners. No doubt looking for Ronon, but he isn‘t coming. This is private. John locks the door with a thought. “Just you and me. The middle. Please.”

That gets a response, and Rodney lowers himself to the floor in the correct spot.

“Shut your eyes. Palms up on your lap. Relax.” John knows there‘s nothing Rodney hates more. He strips off his vest, gun, and does a few small stretches. Some part of him realizes that Rodney is getting ready to protest. “If you disobey, I will want your forehead on the floor, and I‘m not afraid to put it there.”

Every muscle in Rodney‘s body tenses. John stands right in front of him and waits. Rodney takes a deep breath and centers himself again. That‘s good enough. John begins a short kata, moving around him easily. Keeping an eye on the tension in Rodney‘s shoulders, John starts the next pattern.

This . . . _thing_ he has with Rodney is at the same time the easiest and hardest thing in two galaxies. When they‘re in synch, nothing and no one can stop them. When Rodney is out of control, bad things happen. John is honest enough to admit those things also happened when he goes nuts. With a small sigh to warn him, he sinks down in front of him and assumes the same position. He listens and matches their breath. Rodney‘s there. He‘s quit trying to anticipate John‘s next move.

John gently puts his hands on top of Rodney‘s, expecting a small flinch, and pleased when there isn‘t one. “I have this dream at least once a week,” he says in a low voice, “where we gate into an ocean and drown.”

He isn‘t surprised to feel a small wince. “That couldn‘t happen, right?”

Rodney doesn‘t open his eyes, but he‘s looking right at him through closed eyelids. “John.”

The lack of the ‘yes‘ makes John‘s guts twist. He forces himself to sit still. “The MALP is bulky and a pain in the ass.” He hopes Rodney doesn‘t laugh again. “I‘m thinking something small we could toss through in those cases where we aren‘t sure. I worry that my dream isn‘t.” The silence makes it possible to talk about his fear. He‘d tried twice before but those sharp blue eyes had mocked him before his first word. “I know you‘re the genius, and I‘m the flyboy, but-” He‘s shocked when Rodney used his hand to stop him.

“Yes, John.” Rodney smiles. “Yes.”

John‘s spine relaxes and he kisses Rodney‘s hand. “First movement. You can do it with me.”

Rodney‘s huff is expected, but he gets up, clamps his lips together and tries. He tries and by the time he‘s sweating lightly, he has the first half. John is pleased. He nudges him in the general direction of the bench and the water and they sit in companionable silence.

“Now, I gotta fuck you.”

Water sprays out over the floor, and John laughs. Timing is everything.

********

Rodney

********

Today had been one surprise after another, and Rodney is more grateful than he‘d ever say for John simultaneously rescueing him and humiliating his entire staff. A thousand questions bubble around Rodney‘s brain, but more than anything, he wants to know why John hadn‘t told him earlier about the dream. His fingers itch to get started bringing John‘s idea to life. The MALP‘s were clumsy and slow. He‘d design something easy and fast and portable.

“Now, I gotta fuck you.”

Water explodes from his mouth, and he stares as John laughs and throws his towel at him. He catches it and cleans up the mess. They‘re going to have sex here? That‘s insane. John‘s clearly lost his mind. Rodney growls, “John.” He stretches out the vowel.

“Don‘t worry. I have a plan.”

Rodney hates John‘s plans, and John knows it. That‘s a poor attempt at humor. John grabs his vest, gun, the water, and points out the door. Rodney goes, but he has a bad feeling about this. Sure, people assume, but they‘re too smart to confront John directly. Even the Marines with real issues refuse to do more than sneer when they think no one was looking.

Through three more doors and down a flight of stairs and into a part of the city that Rodney has never explored. His fear about discovery fades and now he worries about structural integrity. John stops in front of a door and puts both of his hands against it.

It doesn‘t move, and then suddenly it jerks open. They go inside quickly, and Rodney automatically turns on the lights, but nothing happens. The dark is deep, and he can smell the ocean, and he finds a handful of John.

“Easy,” John murmurs. The lights came up, but they‘re very dim. After the total darkness though, it‘s easy to make out the interior. Rodney stares in amazement, chagrin, and fury. It‘s all pounding through him instantly. He whips around and shoves his finger at John‘s chest.

“You made a love nest?” Rodney doesn‘t give a shit about rule number five right now. He‘s pissed. John catches him by the hand and kisses it.

“I made it for _us_ ,” John says in a deep voice. “Now kneel.”

Rodney hesitates, but his anger fades fast, and a small sense of shame creeps over him. Trust isn‘t exactly something he‘s good at. He takes one step and kneels. His knees come down on a huge bed that‘s been put on the floor. It‘s four times the size of the small bunks that are in regular quarters, and he covets it instantly. John produces a lighter and goes around the room lighting candle after candle. Now Rodney can see clearly as John once again puts his hand on the wall.

“That‘s-” Rodney breaks off, unwilling to say anything else, but he can‘t look away. The room is under water, or it‘s nothing more than an image, and he tilts his head to the side, running through the options.

“Amazing, isn‘t it?” John might have smiled a little. “It‘s real, not a projection.” He drops his vest and takes a long stretch. “We‘re on radio, so don‘t worry, and this place is keyed to me, only me.”

That had been obvious. Rodney relaxes marginally. Now they‘re going to have what he believes is called a ‘scene‘ and he‘ll be required to lick, beg, do all sorts of things that aren‘t natural – for him. He bites his lower lip and isn‘t sure he has it in him. Kneeling has been hard enough. A big, orange fish swims past, chasing what looks like a blob of seaweed, and he tries to find a calm place in his head. He doesn‘t have one, never did.

Memories of his parents skitter through his mind, and he remembers the yelling clearly. His mother was always demanding more – more for her. They‘d never hit the other, but if they had, he wouldn‘t have been surprised. His mother had thrown a knife at Thanksgiving once, but it had been very dull, and his father quick on his feet.

“My count is at eighteen. Yours?” John‘s teeth flash in what isn‘t a grin.

“Yes, John.” Rodney tries to stay still. He doesn‘t know one damn thing about bondage and men who like to play that game, but he‘d read the rules. Most of today he‘d enjoyed. He wasn‘t sure about the hugging – it was awkward to say the least – but working on projects with John always makes him happy. The kneeling had sucked. He wasn‘t young any longer, and he‘d never been supple. Taking orders was something he was somewhat accustomed to and while he ignored some of them, he responded naturally to authority. It was a weakness of his.

John puts his hand on Rodney‘s bent neck. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes,” Rodney says, but he doesn‘t raise his head. He doesn‘t want to look at him. Does his sister play these games with her husband? Had their parents damaged them beyond all hope? He thinks that‘s a foregone conclusion. John‘s lips skim across the back of Rodney‘s neck. It feels good. It always feels good. When it came to this, John is very giving. He doesn‘t ask for anything, not until quite recently.

With a soft, terrible groan, he lowers his head and starts another list. Perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn‘t kill him to give also. Be more attentive. Listen once and a great while. He‘d also stop stealing John‘s food. It was rude, especially since John would give it. The very last thing he ever wanted was to become like his mother. The thought makes him cringe, and he has a feeling he isn‘t going to like this list.

“Too much for you?” John whispers, easing Rodney‘s shirt off. Rodney shakes his head and lowers it again. He‘ll do this, and maybe he‘ll discover something about the man he loves along the way.

********

John

********

The sudden passivity of the most stubborn man in the Pegasus galaxy worries him. Breaking Rodney had not been plan – not in the slightest. John wouldn‘t mind helping him learn to give a little, but never break. He‘d have to go slow and easy, make it pleasureable and if he‘s lucky, Rodney will let him do it again.

Turning the lights off with a thought, he bites the back of Rodney‘s neck gently yet possessively. This man was his. His. He knew Rodney doesn‘t want to hear it, but it‘s true. It is, damn it, and he‘s afraid that he‘s growling softly.

Rodney makes a soft sound like a whimper, and John is glad his BDU‘s are tight. The last thing he wants to do is come on himself.

“Are you scared?” John blurts, suddenly unsure if _he_ wants to do all the things he‘s planned. It had all sounded good when he was daydreaming, but the reality of an obedient Rodney is kinda frightening.

With a quirk of his lips, Rodney shoves his hands behind his back. “Yes, John.” The sarcasm drips, and John is reassured. Oh, he‘s sure it‘s true, but they can both be scared now. He skims his hands down Rodney‘s strong arms and nearly shivers at his own longing and the worry that Rodney will hate him in the morning.

“Lie on your stomach.” John hears his voice crack. He forces himself to stay calm and not pant as he strips Rodney down to pale skin and goosebumps. It isn‘t cold. John stares because he wants to and then says very softly, “Arms back.”

Rodney does it with a dramatic grunt, but he didn‘t hesitate or curse under his breath. John kisses him on the back of the leg and works his way up slowly. He loves the soft sounds that Rodney makes that aren‘t quite words. Rodney shivers and his hands twitch, and John nearly loses control. He wants him now. Not later.

The waiting, the teasing, the small slaps, the moaning: he loves it. It isn‘t as much about the restraints as it‘s the feeling of knowing the other person is willing to give it all to him. Rodney is so damn stubborn, but he‘s waiting, and he‘s not talking, and John is about ready to come all over him.

Hesitating, he stares some more and finally says, “Rodney, it‘s the giving that turns me on. Obedience is a gift. I‘m well aware that I‘m not very good at it myself. I think that‘s why . . . I like it.”

The silence is thick with words John can almost hear. Rodney is thinking furiously, and that isn‘t always good. John has to stop touching him, pulling away and removing his shirt. He makes a fast decision that he may regret. “You can talk now. It won‘t affect rule number five.”

“Why not?” Rodney always wants to know why.

“Because you‘re getting twenty regardless,” John says gruffly. “I made up my mind about that early this morning.”

Rodney scrambles up and clutches John‘s belt. “Please. Don‘t. You know I‘ll hate it.”

John isn‘t changing his mind on that. “We won‘t know until we try.” He ignores the hands as he removes his shoes. His orgasm has backed away. Rodney‘s voice can do that to him. He leaves his pants alone, but does remove his belt.

“I‘m not good at giving,” Rodney says very softly. “I‘m a very selfish man.”

“I know.” John never fools himself in regard to Rodney‘s character. “But give me this anyway.”

Rodney turns him loose and sits cross-legged. “What do I get in return?”

“Tell me when we‘re done.” John isn‘t going to trade his jello for sex. He would, but that isn‘t what this is about and Rodney knows it.

“You‘re sure I-” Rodney breaks off and his eyes dart madly around the room as if searching for a way out. John lets him stew for a minute. With quick, sure movements, he yanks Rodney into position. Rodney bucks and wiggles, making a few ridiculous noises, but John smooths his hand into the small of Rodney‘s back and presses.

“Be still. You will do this.” John runs his hand up to Rodney‘s shoulder and holds him tightly. “You will.”

Rodney squeaks out a breath, but he stops squirming. “I will?”

“Yes.” John keeps it simple. He‘s wanted to do this to Rodney‘s ass for a very long time, and nothing short of a Wraith attack is going to stop him. “Put your head on your arms and let me.”

“Shit.” Rodney folds down, his face pointed at the wall of water. “Being underwater isn‘t my favorite thing.”

John laughs softly. “It‘s pretty and you know it.” He manages to find the lube he‘d stashed here earlier and sets it close. “Are you going to count?”

“One beyond twenty and I _will_ find a way to hurt you,” Rodney grinds.

That makes John‘s cock twitch heavily and he isn‘t sure if it‘s the voice or the thought of a good wrestling match. He rubs Rodney‘s ass because he can, both sides, and then gives him a light tap. Rodney‘s muscles are so tight. John smiles at the incredulous look Rodney gives him.

“That‘s it?”

“No,” John breathes. He‘s entranced with the shake and wobble of Rodney‘s asscheeks. Just so damn perfect. He starts slow, making sure to count, and by the last five he‘s not sparing his arm. At twenty, he stops, but he can‘t resist one more. He‘s the master here. He is.

********

Rodney

********

Fire. Fire. His ass is on fire, and he‘s starting to hate the man that‘s putting it there. Twisting and yelling hasn‘t worked, and now he‘s praying it‘ll end soon. John stops at twenty – thank God – and then swiftly, before Rodney can do anything, one more makes him squeal. There isn‘t any air in his lungs, and he goes boneless. This has to be over. Yes, yes, he‘d deserved them, but it hurts, and he can see that John is loving it, so it‘s hard to be angry.

“Please, John,” Rodney whispers. He isn‘t entirely sure what he‘s asking for, and that‘s a first. The heat in his ass is intense, driving everything else away. For the first time in months, he‘s not making a list or writing code in his head. It hurts. He gasps when John puts his hand down on him.

“Thank you,” John says rather formally, and Rodney almost laughs. Almost. He doesn‘t know what to say or think. He can only feel, and he isn‘t sure he likes that at all. Two big fish seem to be staring at him, and suddenly he wants to run from the room. Get away from what he doesn‘t understand.

John wraps his hand around the back of Rodney‘s neck. “Turn it loose, Rodney.”

That makes no sense, but he finds himself relaxing. “Why?” he asks softly, needing to understand.

John doesn‘t answer, and Rodney finds himself yelping when a slick hand settles into his ass crack. His skin is hot, achingly hot, and John whispers, “Spread your legs.”

Rodney shivers because of the fierce tone, not the words, and he opens himself up for him. The galaxy seems to be twirling around him, and thoughts aren‘t sticking in his brain, and John‘s hand pins him to a decision he doesn‘t know whether to hate or love. And that is irritating as hell. His voice isn‘t working either, and he lets out a soft whine when John strokes him open. Everything in his body starts draining down to focus on his ass and he fights it at first. Giving up isn‘t something he does easily. Usually, he finds a way to run. They aren‘t the same. His legs twitch, trying to get him the hell away from these damn feelings.

“I got you.”

That is entirely the problem, and he‘s amazed that John is so dense that he can‘t see it.

“I know you wanta run for your life, but I‘m asking you to let me have you.”

Okay, so John isn‘t so dumb after all. Rodney feels his brain slip down his spine to his ass as John does something wonderful, and slightly painful, with his hands. It hurts. It feels good, and the combination makes him pant and lose track of reality. He rubs the sweat off his forehead with his wristband, looks over his shoulder, and sees the pure lust on John‘s face. John is in the zone. Rodney has seen it before, but usually there‘s the sound of gunfire as accompaniment.

John really is kinky.

The thought is both alarming and sexy. Rodney notices that his dick is snug between John‘s thighs. He rocks a little to see if it‘ll feel good, and John lets him have it. “Ow! That‘s so unfair!”

“Did I say you could move?” John licks his lower lip. Rodney is afraid what‘ll happen if he reaches back to rub the red. John has quick hands, and apparently, he‘s not afraid to use them. Rodney shuts his mouth, feels his entire body give a shake, and lowers his head to his arms again.

The sting is already much less, and the pleasure is washing it out further, and he struggles to stay still.

“Good,” John says with intensity that makes Rodney shut his eyes and pray he lives through this experiment. He rubs his face again with the wristband. John makes that sound that means he‘s fighting not to come, and Rodney will admit he doesn‘t understand why the idiot still has his pants on. With a soft grunt, John pushes and wiggles around until Rodney is flat on the bed. Somehow, he manages to leave most of his hand inside Rodney‘s ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Rodney whispers, with no pun intended. The fish are definitely staring now, and he flinches as John gives him a slap. “What?” he snaps.

John grins. “Just having some fun.”

That‘s insufferable, but he swallows the words down because as John said earlier, it‘s very stupid to piss off the man that owns his ass. And he‘s owned. Glaring at the wristband, he isn‘t happy with that bit of truth, and he hates that the thought gives him the trembles.

“I‘m not sure about all this.”

“Just realized it, huh?” John is suddenly naked and licking at Rodney‘s buttocks. The coolness on his hot ass feels good, and he has to resist the urge to push back into it. That‘d earn him another slap for sure. His lungs finally seem to fill with air, and his dick wants to come. Bad. He‘s like that. Ready to go in an instant. It‘s occasionally embarrasing. All he wants is to jump on John and hump until sparks go off in his brain. John is usually up for that.

“Be still,” John commands. He‘d practically growls those words, and Rodney‘s dick freezes. John moves directly over him, nipping at the back of Rodney‘s neck and shoulders. That‘s new. All this neck action makes him think that John has repressed issues. Rodney nearly giggles. Of course John has issues. A hand blasts him back into his ass, and he yelps loudly.

John licks Rodney‘s ear. “Don‘t come.”

Rodney‘s brain stalls. He can‘t find words to express his dismay at that order. It isn‘t possible. It isn‘t even in the realm of possibilities. John‘s dick nudges inside while Rodney is still gibbering, and the jolt of pleasure is sublime. He sighs happily until John presses his hips into Rodney‘s still hot ass.

“Well, crap!” Rodney tries to jerk away, but John has him down. How John manages to pin him, spank him, and fuck him all at the same time is a direct violation of one of the law of physics. Rodney is sure of it.

*********

John

*********

The trick with this game is to gauge the person‘s desire and stay inside it while pushing for the edge of that boundary. It takes a cool head and balls that are willing to wait. Rodney blows all the rules out the window. John doesn‘t want to wait, and he doesn‘t want to push too hard. This is Rodney, and they share more than a bed and a few restraints.

Keeping it altogether is the hardest thing he‘s ever done, and he isn‘t doing it very well. They‘re both quick on the trigger when it comes to sex. He‘d hoped this would slow him down. It hadn‘t. If anything, it‘s worse.

“I gotta come,” Rodney groans. It nearly pushes John too far. He pops him again to answer. Rodney‘s ass bucks up and clenches. John whines. He does. Rodney is cheating. Nothing new there. John swats him again.

“Settle down.” John‘s afraid he sounds weak. He sure does feel it. Rodney‘s ass is so good underneath him. Warm, soft, and round and he can‘t last another second. It blasts through him, shaking him, and Rodney doesn‘t even come near to holding still. “No!”

“Please!” Rodney‘s hands flail everywhere. This calls for drastic action. John pulls out fast, knowing the jolt will make him yell, and it does. “Ow!”

“Roll over!” John gets one more shot in on that perfect ass, and Rodney is on his back. Rodney‘s eyes are huge, and John has another command for him. “Arms out! Now!”

Rodney opens his mouth, shuts it, and does it. John groans as his balls spit out a little more to land on Rodney‘s leg. He doesn‘t bother with a kiss or a caress. Rodney‘s only human. John sucks him hard and deep, filling his mouth and throat.

“John.” Rodney arches his back. His face is contorted, and John hopes Rodney isn‘t broken. Come hits the back of John‘s throat and he swallows. When it‘s over, he licks his way up to Rodney‘s mouth and kisses him deeply. Rodney doesn‘t move, and John slides his arm out until their wristbands and fingers touch.

“Nice.” John doesn‘t want to move for an hour or so. Rodney‘s body is perfectly comfortable.

Lifting his head, Rodney says directly into John‘s ear, “Is this _scene_ over?”

John can hear the scorn, but he knows some of that is Rodney‘s fear of anything new and anything that makes him feel vulnerable. “When we have a scene, I‘ll tell you in advance. That was me – spanking your ass.”

“I noticed!” Rodney is struggling now, and John rolls off but isn‘t happy about it. Now the complaining will start. He leans up on an elbow and manages to grab a handful of red ass. Rodney makes a funny sound and says, “Let go of that!” He glares. “It wasn‘t a scene?”

“Uh, no.” John has to laugh, and he reluctantly lets go. Rolling, he pillows his head and stares out at the water. “A scene really should have toys, and you would have to call me master. And.” He holds up a finger. “You‘d have to be obedient.”

Rodney is rubbing his ass and glaring non-stop. “I thought. Well, never mind what I thought. I was good today!”

“Right.” John laughs some more. “Now, don‘t get me wrong. I had a great day, and this, was, well, fantastic, but you weren‘t _good_.” He scoots closer and takes over the job of rubbing Rodney‘s ass. “You have a perfect ass.”

“You‘ve mentioned it once or twice.” Rodney is close to pouting. “I‘m going to do some research on this whole bondage kink of yours.”

John kisses the pout away. “Nah. Don‘t bother. I don‘t think it‘s going to work.” He knows he‘s made a huge mistake when Rodney draws away and sits up so they‘re not touching any longer. “Rodney, it‘s no big deal.”

“But, but, you like it. A lot. You should‘ve seen your face, and your dick was bigger than usual, if that‘s possible.” Rodney drops his face on to his hands. “And I didn‘t like it, but I didn‘t hate it, and I did try.”

The rejection in Rodney‘s voice is hard to take. John sits up and puts his hands on Rodney‘s knees. He‘ll explain it again. “You did try. I was proud of you. It‘s not for everyone, and you‘ve never been a big fan of pain. I just . . . needed to know that you . . . would.”

“Of course I love you enough!” Rodney jumps to his feet, claps his hand over his mouth, looks beyond horrifed, and grabs his clothes. He bolts for the door. John lays back flat and put his hands behind his head. This‘ll be interesting.

“Open the damn door!” Rodney screeches, hitting notes that God didn‘t intend. John ignores that. He rolls to his stomach and watches something swim by that he wouldn‘t want to meet in a wetsuit. Rodney begins to curse at the door, but he‘ll get over it soon. John scratches his balls, finds a pillow, and gets more comfortable. He feels a trifle smug. Rodney loves him. It was something huge in this . . . _thing_ that they share. Of course, he‘d known it, but it‘s nice to hear.

“John, I‘m going to have a panic attack.” Rodney is breathing heavily.

John believes that. He rolls up to his feet, takes the clothes from him, and pulls him down to the big bed. They wind together, and Rodney is breathing like a freight train.

“I‘ve got you.”

“Again,” Rodney wheezes. He wants to struggle. That‘s obvious. John makes a couple of manuevers and tucks Rodney‘s head into his belly again. Rodney groans and then holds on tight. John doesn‘t let go.

“Breathe. Everything is fine. I want another orgasm in a few minutes, but we‘re good.” John strokes him gently, trying to calm him. “Next time we‘re feeling adventurous, we‘ll do something you like. For instance, we‘ll have sex without actually touching or we‘ll smear jello on each other. Whatever you want.”

“Really?” Rodney raises his head. “Jello?”

“Sure.” John grins. That sparks a memory. “Hey, I have some MRE‘s over there. Why don‘t you have one? From the look of things in the cafeteria, you didn‘t finish your dinner.”

Rodney is gone fast. He rummages like a large squirrel and makes a happy noise. “Maybe it‘ll have a brownie in it.”

“Maybe.” John shuts his eyes and relaxes. He has to say it too, and it comes easier than he‘d imagined. “I love you more than enough to let you put food on me.”

The silence is deep, and John would swear he could hear the water against the wall.

“You _are_ kinky.” Rodney might be smiling. John laughs. Rodney gives him a small slap on the thigh. “Don‘t fall asleep yet.”

“Why not?” John lazily opens his eyes.

Rodney kisses him. “I could get use to that hugging thing we did. I didn‘t really like it, but it wasn‘t all that bad.”

“I‘ll make a note.” John puts his hand on Rodney‘s thigh. “Thank you for the day, Rodney.”

“You‘re welcome.” Rodney is opening his meal. “You‘re still on my list.”

“Aren‘t I always?” John lets the sleep take him. He needs a nap. Keeping Rodney quiet all day was exhausting, but worth it.

********

After yesterday, going to the lab is a risky proposition. He could be walking into more trouble than he can handle. Rodney‘s ideas about revenge are extreme. John arms himself with real coffee – he‘d traded for it – and a chocolate bar.

Rodney is doing three things at once: yelling at Zelenka, typing furiously on a laptop, and making adjustments to a large piece of Ancient technology. He stops dead and swivels. “Do I smell coffee?”

John nearly flinches back as he‘s attacked. “Yes, it‘s yours. You‘re welcome.” His hand might have a bruise, and the chocolate bar is long gone. He smiles at the dramatic moan that Rodney gives after one tiny sip.

“You‘ve been holding out on me!” Rodney moves a little further from the laptop. “Wait. Do I have to do something to earn this?”

“Nope. On the house.” John can‘t help but smile, finding a table to slouch over. “Are you making up for yesterday?”

“My ears are ringing,” Zelenka says and puts his hands over them.

Rodney glares, so John doesn‘t laugh. “One day, and they accomplished nothing! They did, however, destroy a piece of delicate machinery and eat plenty of Danish!”

“Probably the orange ones that you don‘t let them have.” John eyes the coffee, but he really doesn‘t like bite marks on his arms. “Okay, see ya later.” He gives them a very sloppy salute.

“Sheppard,” Rodney says almost quietly, “thanks for the coffee.” He returns the salute. John blinks as Rodney‘s shirtsleeve pulls up a little, revealing the black wristband. It‘s more than a surprise. It‘s almost a promise. “And I‘m working on a design for that thing we discussed. We can go over it later.”

“Later.” John keeps his smile to himself until he‘s out the door. With any luck, they wouldn‘t drown now. And Rodney is wearing the wristband. It‘s unexpected and very nice. Later, John might take advantage of it. He‘s kinky, after all.

*********

the end


End file.
